My (not so perfect) Life!
by The TrendSetter
Summary: As I sit browsing through social media feeds, that are riddled with declarations of love and the lyrics to love songs, Love song lyrics –Can you beat that? Isn't anyone concerned about copyright infringement anymore? I cant help, but wonder if I ever can, save my crumbling marriage!


"All you can think of is work", he almost yelled into my ears as I sat trying to write out my case report.

It was close to 11:30 pm. The day had been long. The case had been solved and the culprit, caught. Team CID may be free. But my work had just begun. We, the forensics, had to type out the entire report, match them with relevant evidences and courier the hard copy to the head quarters, all within a week of closing the case. He knew it all. But somehow things had become different after the event called 'marriage'. Abhijeet just wasn't the same. He was a dedicated officer, no doubt – I want to be a dedicated doctor too. Why? Just why couldn't he understand that?

"You will have to make your choice before I get back Tarika. Its either me or the job" he ejected, before he stormed out. I don't remember the in-between, save for a lot of tears, but the (beginning of the) end was, "I don't think I want to be married anymore."

It was a punch to the gut. Wait. No. It wasn't really. Maybe a punch to the gut on the job - you know, like after you've been careless enough to get yourself captured by the criminal and tied up, you are waiting to be punched. You can sense that it's coming, but it hurts and it winds you regardless of how much you've braced yourself for the impact.

We had been married about a year-and-a-half, together for six. During the good times it felt like we had settled into a routine. The increasingly uncomfortable times resembled a rut. He was right. I… I had to make… a ch.. choice. But ending our marriage? There were no violent fights or cheating. We didn't regularly say hurtful things or have crazy double lives. It was just the job – the work culture. He had his and I had mine. He was devoted to his, and I, to mine. Now what exactly was wrong with that? I didn't see anything. But, he obviously did.

The result, our turbulent married life!

He moved out. He moved in with his best friend Daya. "This is just a temporary arrangement" he had said, until he "sorted some things out." I told Dr. Salunkhe and my best friend, Tasha for they would easily pick up on my sour mood and wavering voice. Other than that, I didn't tell a soul.

Many of my good friends had recently been married and some were even pregnant. My social media feeds were riddled with declarations of love and the lyrics to love songs. Love song lyrics –Can you beat that? Isn't anyone concerned about copyright infringement anymore? I felt like the only one who was alone.

We talked frequently in a strained everything-is-going-to-work-out-for-the-best-no-I'm-not-crying-I-just-swallowed-a-paratha-in-one-go way. We were most honest over mails and chats, basically when we didn't have to look at each other.

The only good thing that happened was that I finally learned to appreciate working in a dingy lab. Having semi-daily breakdowns in the air-conditioned bureau would have been downright luxurious, but, given the situation, I was thankful for lonely/dingy lab where I could sink down in between chemical cylinders and sob.

Apart from Dr. Salunkhe, a bunch of the senior officers had noticed my tear-stained face many a times. But I didn't care. There was no point hiding it anymore. They had to know it – sooner or later, and to me it was, the earlier, the better. Manisha bhabi had tried calling me a couple of times. I managed to avoid answering her calls, successfully.

And then it happened. The new case at hand, required a forensic doctor to accompany the investigating officer – and since Dr. Salunkhe wasn't keeping too well, I had to go – with Abhijeet, to the scene of crime.

It was more than a month after we had started living alone. I was travelling with him – again, alone. The onward journey was quite uneventful. He had met an old friend on the flight and spent a major part of the journey yapping with him. Once at the scene of crime, we were busy with the investigation and collection of evidences. We hardly had any time at hand – free enough, to be able to interact with each other. Was that a blessing in disguise? I didn't know!

It was our last night in the city. We had an hour to ourselves before we rushed to the airport. We decided to have dinner together – our first one since the time, he had left home. I bit my lip through dinner and sat saying nothing, but cried throughout the flight journey. He did nothing to re-assure me. It wasn't really surprising - given the situation. He offered to drop me home, though.

By the time he pulled into the driveway of the house that I was now solely occupying, I was absolutely hysterical. He walked me in, and I collapsed on our bed, alternating between throwing up and hyperventilating. He alternated between staring nervously, and offering not-so-consoling words (finally! At least he tried) in a soothing tone.

My mind raced back to the past – the good times we had and the songs we sang. 'Can't we give ourselves another chance Abhijeet?' I asked, rather hopefully. "I just don't want to make promises I can't keep," he said. Then, just as quickly as he said it, he walked out the door and drove away.

I was heartbroken, and scared. I called up Tasha for solace. She did try her best – but, no. How could a young, 20 something, happily married girl understand my predicament? 'Not her fault', I sighed as I sat to google – no, koogle, my doubts.

"Divorced before 30" I typed and was horrified at the number of results that came up. More than half the world seemed to have gone through that phase. I tried to think it out. I knew one thing. No one else was responsible for my happiness. It seems obvious, but sometimes life obscures such realities. Abhijeet was questioning the importance of me in his life. This crushed me, but I tried to see it objectively. If I were disposable to him, he would no longer have power over my emotions. That's it! "Its all over" I said to myself.

Was I sure of that?

"No! I can't let that happen to me." I said again.

'I will have to do something to save myself, and my marriage', I had decided. I will give my marriage another shot.

I started making efforts, small ones, from my end. I waited for every opportunity to run down to the bureau with my reports. I called Abhijeet on his mobile to update him on the case instead of the bureau landline. Freddy sir noticed it at first and did his best to help me. He pretended to be busy when I walked in so that Abhijeet would have to attend to me. ACP sir, on his part, made sure that it was Abhijeet who was sent to the lab with evidences and to collect reports.

Our separation lasted about six weeks. I know: It probably seems like an over-dramatic essay for 42 short days of separation. But time had seemed like years to me then. Two days later, Abhijeet called me and asked if we could go out for breakfast. His voice seemed softer, and I was optimistic.

On our way back, he tearfully apologized and said he wanted to come home. He said he would take me out on a vacation or whatever it would take to get our lives back to normal.

Although it took a while for things between us to return to, or even feel normal, we began to slowly and surely move back toward the path to the "happily ever after" scenario.

This time, though, we are painfully aware this fairy tale won't write itself. It takes work (not the one in the lab), attention, love, and patience, and most of all, supportive friends and colleagues - And I sure am glad, that I have some.

...

A/N: "My (not so perfect) Life", is my NOT SO PERFECT comeback story. Like it? Leave a review to let me know that. Don't like it? Leave a review to let me know that as well. Good day!


End file.
